


All's Fair in Love and Laundry

by indiebitch



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Enemies to Lovers, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Idiots in Love, Joe's in it for the homoeroticism, Lykon can also have a brain cell... as a treat, M/M, Nicky has a cat, Nicky's in this rivalry for revenge, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, also Nile has the only brain cell as per usual, and weirdly enough lots of trash talking cargo shorts, lots of discussions of laundry, romcom levels of realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiebitch/pseuds/indiebitch
Summary: Joe Al-Kaysani likes to think of himself as a good person.At least this is what he tells himself as the most beautiful Italian man berates him about the merits of laundry room etiquette.He’d like to say that he has no idea how he got into this exact scenario. But if he did, he would be a big fat stinking liar.or Joe and Nicky are neighbors caught up in a laundry-based rivalry and fall in love along the way
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 121
Kudos: 250





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> blanket cw for lots of nonconsenual touching of other people's clothing. it is dealt with humorously throughout the story, but i know that this may be triggering for some people. if that is the case this may not be the story for you. but that's okay! i'd much rather you stay safe and sane!!! lots of love and enjoy the show!!

Joe Al-Kaysani likes to think of himself as a good person. 

He calls his mother every day. He shops locally as much as possible. He always remembers his friends' birthdays. Et cetera and so on.

No, he certainly isn’t perfect. He’s far from it, but he doesn’t think that makes him inherently bad.

At least this is what he tells himself as the most beautiful Italian man berates him about the merits of laundry room etiquette.

He’d like to say that he has no idea how he got into this exact scenario. But if he did, he would be a big fat stinking liar.

\--

While Joe may be a good person, he certainly isn’t a _patient_ one.

Well, that’s not entirely true either. 

Joe is patient when he is painstakingly translating poetry at his job, pondering the significance and meaning of every word on the page. He is patient when he draws. Every line, every dot, every smudge precisely sketched to capture the beauty of his subject. He is patient with people. Every person has feelings and thoughts and may not express them in the same way he would, so he listens and waits until he understands.

Joe is _not_ patient with menial tasks.

His current task at hand is laundry. Which he hates with a burning passion. A fiery passion that burns brighter than any star in the entire Milky Way Galaxy.

He hates the waiting between loads. He hates folding each shirt. He hates how every time he does it feels like his wardrobe has expanded by at least a dozen items of clothing each time.

Sure the feeling of fresh sheets and the smell of clean clothing is satisfying but the amount of time and effort hardly seems worth it.

To make matters worse, he doesn’t even have his own washer and dryer, so he has to use the laundry room in his apartment building. Sure, it beats lugging his laundry around the streets of New York to the nearest laundromat, but any communal laundry situation feels like hell on earth.

His current apartment building’s laundry room is a sad affair. Beige walls covered with a few signs with various warnings like “Only Use Two Machines At a Time Please!” and “Check your pocket Before You Wash it.” A couple of uncomfortable metal chairs tucked in the corner. A TV mounted on the back wall that usually played Fox News (yuck!) or Telenovellas (surprisingly entertaining). Washers on the left. Dryers on the right. It really is a depressing place that Joe hates spending time in.

However, what really gets under his skin is when all the machines are taken, especially when it’s the dryers. If all the washers are taken, it’s fine. Whatever. Joe just has another excuse to put off cleaning his clothes.

If it’s the dryer, it feels like the equivalent of showing up to your wedding only to find your partner has left you at the altar. Or Joe _assumes_ that’s what it’s like. He hasn’t really had any personal experience in the latter scenario. But in both cases you go through the whole beginning process, then you wait and you wait only to find out that the most important part is _gone_ and now your whole week is ruined and you’ve got a pile of wet clothes you’re not entirely sure what to do with.

Okay, so they aren’t the _exact_ same but you get the point.

And right at this current moment, he has just finished washing his clothes and there are no damn dryers left. Why his apartment building thought it was a good idea to have eight washers and only seven dryers is beyond him, but he is now suffering the consequences of this decision.

What he does next is borderline blasphemous. He knows this. But he also knows the last two dryers have been done the whole thirty minutes Joe has spent in this godforsaken room. Which in his book could also be considered a sin in the laundry room etiquette law book. Like seriously, just wait in the room or set a goddamn alarm or something. The rest of the population needs to do their laundry too (in this case, it’s Joe so he may be biased here).

He looks around the room. Good. No one here to witness his shameful act.

However since he is not a total and utter asshole, Joe prepares. He puts on some hand sanitizer. He even puts down some paper towels on the top of the machine.

Then he reaches into the dryer and starts pulling out clothes from the dryer.

He tries to move quickly because he knows what he is doing is wrong but damn it! He just wants to be done with his laundry! And anyone annoying enough that just abandons their dryer is getting in the way of that.

Plus, this particular load holds a disturbing amount of cargo shorts, and whoever owns that many pairs of those devil shorts can’t be that good of a person anyways.

Now, he is prepared for the lasting guilt he will feel for performing this act.

He is prepared for the passive aggressive note that he may have to read on his next visit to the laundry room.

What is not prepared for is for a very beautiful man with very pretty eyes to walk into the laundry room and catch him in the middle of this dirty deed.

For the very pretty man with the very beautiful eyes to turn his eyes onto Joe with a gaze of confusion that morphs into an angry glare.

And most certainly isn’t prepared for the very pretty beautiful man with the very angry very blue eyes to ask the following question:

“Why are you touching my underpants?”

Joe tears his stare from the gorgeous man who has a very nice voice with an Italian (?) accent and looks down at his hands.

He is, in fact, holding this man’s underwear.

He drops them back into the dryer like they were on fire.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Joe insists.

“It looks like you are taking my clothes out the dryer,” the Italian man scathingly observes.

“All right,” Joe confirms. “So it is exactly what it looks like but--”

“You took my clothes out of the dryer.” the man interrupts.

He puts his one hand not holding his laundry basket on his hip, and he reminds Joe of a grandmother scolding her naughty grandchildren for distracting her from her chores. Joe finds this tableau unreasonably hot.

“Okay I did, but it’s been over thirty minutes and I didn’t know when you were coming back,” Joe tries to explain.

“I am back now.”

“Yes, but I didn’t _know_ that when I started,” Joe tries again.

“You are not supposed to do that,” the man scolds, gesticulating angrily.

“Well, okay but it’s not like there are any signs or anything saying _not_ to do it,” Joe reminds him.

“There doesn’t _have to be_ any signs,” The man starts to yell but then lowers his voice back down to continue, “I thought we all just silently a _greed_ that strangers shouldn’t be touching other strangers' clean clothes.”

“I put on hand sanitizer,” Joe says, like an idiot.

“How kind of you,” the very hot man says in a way that makes Joe think that he didn’t appreciate the gesture very much.

The man then stomps toward Joe and for a second he thinks maybe he is going to punch him or something. (Some evil part of him thinks maybe he is coming close to kiss him but that makes no sense so Joe ignores it.)

Instead he just moves toward the dryer, scooching Joe out of the way, and starts angrily putting his warm clothes into his basket.

Joe should be doing more than just staring at the man. He should be apologizing or fighting back something. 

But when he opens his mouth all that comes out is,

“Why do you own so many cargo shorts?”

Furious blue eyes turn to glare at him.

“They are comfortable,” the man exasperates.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” Joe asks. He tries for a cheeky grin because for some reason his brain has convinced him that this is what flirting is.

The Italian man slams the dryer door closed, and the sound echoes in the otherwise empty room.

“First you touch my clothes without my permission,” the man says, his jaw clenched tight. “And now you insult them?”

Okay so he is really fucking this one up. He has always been a bit impulsive when it comes to beautiful men but this is just taking on a whole new level of terribleness.

But wow is this dude pretty when he’s angry.

“I wasn’t--” Joe starts. “Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

The man moves onto the next dryer, making Joe step back again.

“And what is the _right_ foot for you hm?” the man says, hurriedly putting the rest of his clothes away.

 _Dinner maybe?_ Joe’s brain unhelpfully supplied. _Or maybe a coffee date?_

He didn’t say that out loud though because he doubted that the angry Italian would take that very well, and Joe doesn’t think he could take the further humiliation of being rejected by the reincarnation of a Michelangelo sculpture.

So he says absolutely nothing. Joe speaks 4 (and a half) languages yet he can’t think of a single word to say to the man before him that wouldn’t cause any further trouble.

He just awkwardly watches as the man hunches over the dryer, shoveling his clothes away, muttering under his breath.

The man takes one moment to look at Joe. His blue eyes (or were they green?) raked up and down Joe’s form in a way that made Joe feel like he was suddenly naked. Then he turned back to his task.

“Li mortacci tua,” he hears the man mutter under his breath.

Then, Joe’s brain finally decides to turn back on because Italian is one of the aforementioned 4 and half languages he knows. He recognized the phrase as a very mean curse against Joe’s bastard ancestor’s. Maybe he should find it rude. Instead, he finds it kind of adorable.

“Parlo Italiano anche, sai,” Joe parries back.

The italian’s eyes widen, his (absolutely stunning) jaw clenches, and then he picks up his hamper and starts for the door.

“Vai pure, é tutto tuo.” The man says over his shoulder and leaves. _Go ahead. It’s all yours._

Joe stares at the empty doorway and then looks down at the now empty dryer and feels a little sad.

It’s been 4 months since he moved into this apartment building, and this was the first real interaction he had with a neighbor (other than murmured hellos and small smiles). And he totally blew it. With arguably the hottest guy in this building.

Fate had never been this cruel to him before, but then again, there is a first time for everything.

He sighed, and started to put his clothes in the dryer, trying not to think about beautiful blue-green eyes and muttered Italian insults.


	2. The Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky fires back and Joe has a plan

The thing about Nicky di Genova is that he is really good at holding grudges. His mother likes to joke that a man could step on his toe and Nicky would still spit on his grave twenty-five years later.

While that’s not entirely true, he reminded of this phrase when weeks after the interaction, Nicky still seethes at the thought of the very handsome man who not only committed a laundry-based crime against Nicky but also had the _nerve_ to insult his cargo shorts _and_ speak beautiful Italian.

He thinks that he was justified in his anger until he tells Nile and Lykon of the incident over drinks.

Instead of sympathy, all he gets is a bright smile from Lykon and Nile raising her eyebrow saying,

“You do own a frightening amount of cargo shorts.”

Nicky huffs indignantly.

“They are very comfortable!” Nicky defends, “And they have lots of pockets!”

Lykon and Nile have the nerve to _laugh._

“You cannot tell me that you think what he did wasn’t annoying,” Nicky accuses.

“No, that is a cardinal sin of communal laundry,” Lykon agrees.

Nicky senses a “but” coming.

“But...” Nile starts.

And there it is. Nicky rolls his eyes.

Nile hits Nicky's arm. Lykon laughs at Nicky’s sharp yell.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” Nile scolds in what sounds suspiciously like her “teacher” voice. “As I was _saying_ , you did take thirty fucking minutes to get your clothes back.”

"It's not my fault!" Nicky protests. "My mother called and you know how she is."

“And then you said mean things about him in Italian,” Lykon points out. “Right in front of him.”

"How was I supposed to know he spoke Italian?" He grumbles back.

He loved his friends, he really truly does. Nile had been by his side for four years now, and while he only met Lykon less than a year ago, he feels like he’s known the young man for years.

But, he really fucking hates when they are right.

“I still think what he did was wrong,” Nicky mutters. And yeah maybe he pouts a little. So what?

Nile studies him for a moment and then shoots a glance at Lykon.

“Was he cute?” Nile asks.

Nicky feels his cheeks burn.

“What? No-- I mean-- Why would you ask that?” Nicky stutters.

Nile smiles knowingly.

“You always do this thing where you have a crush on a dude, you find some reason to be angry with him to hide the fact that you actually really like him,” Nile explains.

“That’s not true!” Nicky fires back, his cheeks reddening further.

Lykon and Nile look at each other conspiringly.

“You never answered Nile’s question,” Lykon reminds him.

“Because it is so preposterous, it doesn’t deserve an answer,” Nicky rebuttals.

His two friends just stare at him.

“Okay, fine.” Nicky deflates, “He was… moderately attractive.”

The man in question was way more than moderately attractive. No Stupid Laundry guy was bordering on illegal levels of hotness. Nicky thinks back to the way the man leaned against the machines, the long line of his body, the curious glint to his deep brown eyes. He remembers noting how nicely his beard framed his full lips. The way those lips curled around Nicky’s mother tongue. And his hair! It was as if each individual curl was crafted by God himself.

Of course, he doesn’t tell Lykon and _especially_ not Nile any of this because they would never let him live it down.

“So I was right,” Nile concludes.

“No,” Nicky points a finger at her. “No, you are not right. Just because he was not repulsive to look at does _not_ mean I have a crush on him.”

Nicky slumps back into his chair.

“Besides, I would never date someone who does not follow basic laundry room etiquette,” Nicky says finally.

Nile brings her straw up her mouth and takes a sip.

“Uh huh,” Nile agrees in a way that has Nicky thinking that she doesn’t believe him.

But it’s true. He doesn’t have a crush on the Stupid Laundry Guy.

He _doesn’t._

_\--_

He also can’t seem to let it go because the next time he does his laundry, lo and behold the Laundry Menace is there and it makes Nicky angry all over again.

In fact, he almost knocks him over.

When he goes to open the laundry room door, Stupid Laundry Man walks right into him, distracted by a phone call. The man barely looks at Nicky when he runs into him, just mutters a quick apology, and heads out into the hall.

Nicky isn’t sure why that makes him even angrier.

Maybe it’s because Nicky has been kept up at night, going over the encounter over and over again, seething at how casual and flippant the man was at violating social protocols and how he insulted Nicky’s clothes.

(He was _not_ thinking about the way the fluorescent lighting made the man’s eyes look even darker, and the way the man smiled at him, eyes crinkled and lovely dimples framing his mischievous grin).

And then when confronted with Nicky again, the man practically runs him over and doesn't even _look_ at Nicky. He is just so terribly rude. 

Here’s the real kicker though: he took Nicky’s favorite washing machines.

Now, there is no real reason that the two washing machines on the very right were Nicky’s favorite. They didn’t clean his clothes any differently than the other machines. It's just that those were the machines that Nicky used the first time he did laundry when he moved into the building two years ago, and Nicky just decided they were his favorite. It was similar to how even though Nicky does not have assigned seating in any of his classes, he still had to break up fights because “Jason sat in my seat, and he _knows_ I sit there every day.” 

Nicky always thought those fights were ridiculous, but now he understands the righteous anger that those fifteen year olds feel. Because when confronted with the reality that he cannot use the machines he always uses, he wants to scream at the top of his lungs and bang his chest like an ape when their territory is threatened.

And it’s just the cherry on top of the fucking cake that the culprit is the Laundry Menace.

He understands what he does next is so petty that even his fifteen year old students would scoff at him, but at that moment it felt right. 

He presses the pause button on the washing machines in question, and takes out all of the clothes inside, and deposits them on top of the metal with a satisfying splat sound.

Then, he puts his own clothes in, pour his detergent in the correct compartment, and starts his own load.

He saunters to the corner and flops down onto a chair, feeling accomplished. Then, he digs a book out of his pocket (See Nile! Cargo shorts are useful. You can’t keep a book in the pocket of skinny jeans can you?) and waits.

\--

When he left the laundry room to answer a phone call from Andy, he had been in such a rush that for a moment he thought he imagined the return of the beautiful man from a couple of weeks ago. He's been doing that in the weeks since he first saw him, thinking any man he saw in his apartment building from the behind was maybe, just maybe the gorgeous guy who cursed him out in Italian. However, each time it was a pale comparison to the vision he saw in the laundry room that fateful day.

But there is no denying him now. He sits in the corner, perusing a book that Joe can’t quite make out the title of. His honey brown hair looks a little longer since the last time he saw the man, the strands of his hair reaching the top of ears now, covering more of those delectable sideburns. He’s clad in a dark blue shirt that brightens his blue/grey/green eyes, and holy shit he was wearing cargo shorts. His legs were crossed so Joe got a spectacular view of the man’s strong, defined calves. And the way the fabric was pulled taut across the man’s thighs? Downright pornographic.

How did this man look _good_ in cargo shorts?

He contemplates this question so hard that he almost doesn’t notice all his clothes piled up in a sad, wet heap on top of the washing machine. It is such a bizarre image it took a moment to process what must’ve happened during his absence from the room.

He glances over at the man in the corner once again. He is still reading his book, but Joe could see the beginning of a mischievous smile tugging at the man’s cheek.

This man is a cold-hearted bitch, and Joe finds that deeply _deeply_ sexy for some sick and depraved reason.

“Did you take my clothes out of the washer?” Joe asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“No,” the little shit answers, not even looking up from his book.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Joe explains, “Since you are the only other person in the room.”

“If you already knew the answer to your question,” the man glances up from his book, “Then why did you ask it?”

Joe almost forgets to be annoyed the moment those blue-green eyes turn to him once again. They glitter with mischief as the man gets up from his chair and ambles towards Joe.

“It still had twenty minutes left in the cycle,” Joe points out. “Why did you take them out?”

The man shrugs his beautiful broad shoulders.

“It’s my favorite washer,” The man simply says, his accent decadently curling around the words.

Joe just blinks at him before finally saying,

“That makes no sense! They are all the exact same!”

“No they aren’t. This one is better.”

“How is it better?”

“It is better because I like it the most.”

Joe throws up his hands in indignation as he figures out that he is not gonna win this fight. He scoops up his wet clothes and drops them into the dryers behind him. 

Once he slams the door shut and starts up the machine, he turns back around to see the man still there, leaning against his beloved washing machine staring right at Joe.

The blue-green stare is so intense it makes Joe feel like the other man knows all his secrets. It makes him want to _tell_ the man all his secrets.

“You did this as some sort of weird revenge for last time, didn’t you?” Joe accuses.

“Did I?” the man says, projecting an air of false innocence. 

“Unbelievable,” Joe huffs.

A small smile tugs at the other man’s cheeks again; his dimple highlights the adorable mole he has on his left cheek. It’s a sign that the Italian feels like he has claimed a victory over Joe.

He saunters back to his corner, and he reclaims the chair he was sitting in earlier and picks his book back up.

Joe knows if he leaves now it will just further this man’s feeling of accomplishment, and the weird competitive side of Joe just can’t have that. So, he just leans against the dryers, and idly scrolls through his phone. If he glances at the man in the corner every few minutes, wishing he had his sketchbook with him, that’s really none of anyone’s business but his own.

When the dryer finally buzzes, Joe pulls all his laundry into his hamper. He turns to the other man, getting one last glimpse of the absolutely stunning son of a bitch in the corner.

Then he smiles his sunniest smile and exclaims,

“Buona giornata!” 

And heads out the door.

\--

Joe tried to forget about the man from the laundry room. Truly, he does. But after their last encounter, he just thinks about him even more.

He should hate him. He should bristle at the vindictive behavior, or at least be mildly annoyed by it.

Instead, he is haunted by the memory of the Italian man’s blue-green eyes, his broad shoulders, his--

“Joe! Are you even listening to me?” Andy asks suddenly, snapping him back to reality.

He was in Andy’s office with his research assistant, Lykon where they were supposed to be going over the terms of the grant that allowed him to do what he loved most, translating poetry. Unfortunately, this is the worst part. The money side of things never interested Joe which is why he got his doctorate in Arabic Poetry from the Middle Ages, not accounting.

“Yeah, Boss. I’m listening,” Joe lies.

Andy rolls her eyes.

“Why can’t you be more like Lykon?” She complains. “Look at him. He’s taking notes.”

Lykon gives him a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah. Be more like me,” Lykon insists.

Joe, a thirty-three-year-old man, sticks his tongue out at him, which causes the younger man to snicker.

“It’s just so boring, Andy” Joe whines.

“You think I like this shit?” Andy fires back.

Joe knows she doesn’t. She has heard her complain about the business side of her job a million times before. Andy took over as the head of the literature department about two years ago, which she never really wanted in the first place. She was more than happy to just continue scaring undergrads in her Ancient Greek literature classes by bringing in her labrys or demonstrating historically accurate wrestling techniques on unwitting volunteers.

But when the last head professor got fired for being a creep to his female students, Joe and Andy’s wife Quynh convinced her to take the university’s offer for her to take over. And just like Joe and Quynh knew she would be, Andy is really good at her job.

However, like Joe, paperwork not pertaining to her field of interest is tedious.

Knowing this just made Joe feel guilty that instead of making her job easier by paying attention, Joe was fantasizing about a guy who he didn’t even know the name of.

“Sorry Andy,” Joe apologizes, clearing his throat.

Her face softens, allowing him a soft smile not many people outside of their small circle get to see. Joe feels honored to have it, anytime he earns it.

“It’s all right,” Andy assures, “We can’t all be teacher’s pets like Lykon over here.”

“Hey!” Lykon protests.

This time it’s Andy’s turn to stick her tongue out.

\--

When the meeting is over and Joe is just about to leave, Andy catches him by the arm.

“Hey, you’ve been awfully spacey today. You okay?” Andy asks.

He squeezes her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Boss,” Joe confirms. “It’s just that today is Laundry Day.”

She tilts her head in a way that Joe finds adorable but would never tell her that out loud because he likes his fingers to remain unbroken.

“Is that some sort of code or something?” 

Joe chuckles at her confusion.

“No really Joe. What does that mean?” Andy insists.

“I’ll tell you at family dinner.” He promises as he turns to leave her office.

“But that’s not until next week!” She shouts at him.

“Bye Andy!” He says over his shoulders.

He can’t be for sure but he thinks he hears Andy mutter under her breath,

“Love you too, asshole.”

\---

The thing is, before this whole debacle, Joe never really had a laundry day. If Joe is being honest, he would usually wait till he was down to critical amounts of underwear. The only reason he went the last time was because he had spilled hummus on his favorite shirt the night before, so he decided to just do a whole load like a Responsible Adult.

It was just a coincidence that he happened to accidentally follow an every other tuesday pattern. However, running into the Mad Italian Man twice in a row could mean one of two things.

  1. Somehow Joe and the Mad Italian Man happened to pick the same exact time out of pure coincidence BOTH times
  2. Mad Italian Man was an insane person who actually had a set laundry schedule and Joe just accidentally followed it



There could’ve been a strong argument for the first, and Joe’s poetic side whispers “it’s destiny” every time he considers it.

However given everything he has learned about the man in question, Joe figured that the man who would go so far as to punish someone for disturbing laundry etiquette would one hundred percent be the kind of man to have a Laundry Day.

But Joe is a student at heart, so although he has a hypothesis, the next step is to test it. So, he waited exactly two weeks, making today Joe’s Laundry Day just as he told Andy.

Is it a little crazy that Joe would spend so much time pondering, planning, and then executing an excuse to see the Mad Italian again?

Yes absolutely.

Would it be wiser to just wait to run into the man naturally since they do live in the same apartment building instead of repetitively meeting a hostile environment?

Totally.

Is he gonna go through with an insane plan with just the hope of seeing those blue-green eyes on him once again?

Of Course. 

When he first gets to the laundry room, there is a notable absence of the man in question. Joe kicks himself in his head. He got it all wrong, putting too much thought into the whole thing.

But then he sees it.

On the same dryers that the man had used on the very first time they met is the same hamper he had seen the beautiful man carry during those both encounters.

It was almost like he put a little flag claiming his property. Like after Joe, he doesn’t want to risk anyone else taking his beloved machines.

Both machines are running, filling the empty room with a subtle _thump-thump-thumping_ sound, so that means that the Italian man’s clothes are in there.

Joe’s plan is going better than he could’ve ever expected.

You see, after today Joe wanted to accomplish a few things. One being his laundry because he was here so he might as well do something other than annoying a very hot Italian man. Which is the other thing he wants to do. Joe wants revenge. He knows that the other man probably thinks that he won with his little trick last time, but if there is one thing Joe always wants, it’s to have the last word.

The other thing he wants after to do is learn the man’s name because if Joe is spending this much mental power thinking about this guy, he would rather be thinking his actual name rather than circulating between variations of “Hot Italian Man” and “The Very Angry Italian With The Gorgeous Jawline.”

He makes quick work of getting his own clothes started to the wash before he moves to the dryer.

It’s only ten more minutes before they buzz letting Joe know the cycle is complete. In a familiar motion, he takes the clothes out, the fabric still warm, and puts it into the Man’s hamper he so helpfully left behind.

But instead of just leaving it there, he begins folding it.

  
  


\---

It is Nicky’s laundry day yet again, and so far there have been no incidents yet.

He figures he wouldn’t run into the Laundry Menace again, so after he puts his load into the dryer he goes back to his apartment to wait there. He finds waiting in the laundry room tedious and boring, so he usually likes to wait it out in the comfort of his own home.

The only exception was last time when he spent his time reveling in his victory as he watched the Laundry Menace dry his clothes. Knowing that the man finally got a taste of his own medicine left Nicky feeling completely satisfied.

So today he spends the hour till his clothes laying on his couch with his cat Pesto. Aside from his sister and Nile, Pesto is his favorite person in the entire world. Nicky could spend hours petting her calico fur whispering Italian terms of endearments. Pesto, on the other hand, merely tolerates Nicky. But he thinks part of the charm of owning a cat is trying to earn their love and affection.

Right now, Pesto seems happy where she is, perched on top of Nicky’s chest as he does his best to read his book around her body. She purrs happily as Nicky strokes her fur, planting a kiss on her head every now and then.

He gets so lost in his book and petting Pesto, that the next time he looks at the clock, it’s time to check on his laundry.

He hoists himself up from the couch, disturbing Pesto from her place. She makes an unhappy noise as she finds a spot on her windowsill. 

“I’m sorry patatina, but I have to get my clothes,” He apologizes.

She doesn’t look at him, distracted by the birds outside.

He sighs but promises to make it up to her when he gets back from the laundry room

\--

Of course, the bastard is back.

And of course, he somehow got handsomer since the last time he saw him (which Nicky didn’t think was physically possible). 

He wears tight black pants that accentuate his gorgeous behind and a loose tank top so his sculpted arms were on full display. The asshole somehow pulls off a backward baseball cap with his spritely curls escaping out the bottom of the hat in a way that Nicky is trying very hard not to find cute.

To make matters even worse the man is whistling a tune that Nicky struggles to identify because he is more distracted by the fact that the bastard is _folding his clothes._

“What are you doing?” Nicky cries out.

The man turns toward Nicky, not stopping his current task, and flashes him a brilliant smile that is _so_ not fair.

“I’m folding your clothes,” the man states the obvious.

“But… why?” he sputters out.

“Well, I thought I’d be a good neighbor since you were so helpful last time,” he explains.

“I wasn’t trying to be helpful! I was being annoying” Nicky admits, waving his arms around.

The man _laughs_ and Nicky wants to cry because the man is already pretty; he shouldn't be allowed to have such a bright and beautiful laugh too.

“So you admit you were doing it out of revenge?”

“ _Obviously,”_ Nicky growls. "And the whole reason I did it was because you were touching my clothes without my permission, so I can see you still have not learned your lesson."

“What’s your name?” the man asks, out of the blue.

“What?” The question caught Nicky off guard, not sure what angle the Laundry Menace is aiming for.

“I feel like we should know each other’s name since we are now so intimately acquainted with each other’s wardrobe,” He smiles again, but it’s not the bright, sunny smile Nicky had seen before. It’s smaller, almost shy. It makes Nicky’s heart skip a beat that he can’t even stop himself from replying.

“Nicky. My name is Nicky.”

“Nicky,” The man says like he is testing it out. “I’m Joe.”

Nicky just stands in the middle of the room confused at what the hell just happened. Just a second ago he was angry, but now his mind is just a loop of the other man saying his name over and over again. He finally snaps out of it when someone brushes past, to get the washers. He mutters an apology to his neighbor before turning his attention back to the Laundry M-- Joe.

Joe has moved on to folding Nicky’s favorite pair of shorts which just reminds him of that time Joe insulted his choice in garments and his anger is restored.

Nicky stomps over to him and rips the shorts out of the man’s very nice hand. He tries to ignore the way sparks shoot down his entire arm when his own hands brush Joe’s in the process. 

(It just means he needs to get out more. It does NOT mean that he wants to feel those same hands run across his entire body, or tugging on his hair or--)

He then grabs the laundry basket where it sits on top of the dryer to find all his clothes neatly organized-- except for his underwear.

He looks back at Joe, tilting his head in question. He isn’t too happy at the thought of the man touching underpants for obvious reasons, but if he went so far to fold all his other clothes why didn’t he just go all the way?

Joe, seemingly reading his mind from Nicky’s confused face, clears his throat and adjusts the cap on his head nervously.

“I figured you wanna…. Y’know…” Joe glances over where their other neighbor is starting their load, “Fold those yourself.”

The shy smile returns and Nicky tries so hard not to find it endearing. 

Nicky just nods because he isn’t really sure what else to do.

He starts to walk away before he stops and turns back towards the other man again.

“I hope you know this isn’t over,” Nicky warns.

The shy smile turns blindly bright once again.

“God I hope not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i know i said i get these out weekly but this chapter was done and I am very excited about it okay?
> 
> chapter 3 may take a little longer tho bc it needs a SHIT ton of work.
> 
> also I know joe academic scene may not be entirely accurate. I am in community college and have no idea how higher academia works, so forgive me for any inaccuracies 
> 
> thanks for sticking around tho!


	3. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky and Joe realize how small their world is and Lykon and Nile realize how ridiculous their friends are.

For the next week, Joe feels like he’s on top of the world. His plan worked! He got the name of his very hot neighbor and now in the duller moments in Joe’s life are distracted with a chorus of that very name.

Nicky, Nicky, Nicky.

Such a fun and bright name for such a serious man. It fits him so well.

Joe knows that he is being ridiculous, acting so infatuated over a man he has only spoken to in the goddamn laundry room, but there is just something so enthralling about the other man. 

The joy he feels over his victory carries him through boring meetings, through difficult passages of translation, and leads him right to the crux of his week: Family Dinner.

Now, don’t get him wrong. He _loves_ family dinners as Andy and Quynh have come to call them. Any excuse to see his closest friends is welcome in Joe’s book, but they can be… overwhelming to say the least.

This is made extremely clear when he enters Andy and Quynh’s apartment to the scene of Quynh and Booker in a very passionate argument where they are firing off choice insults in a weird mix of Vietnamese, French, and… dutch maybe? Andy is in the middle of calmly putting out a fire in the kitchen while the newbies Nile and Lykon exchange a quiet, nice conversation in the living room, seemingly indifferent to the chaos.

“Well, this is a nice warm welcome,” Joe announces to the apartment.

Five pairs of eyes turn toward him. If he were in an old-timey saloon, he is sure the piano player would turn to look at him too.

“If that was a pun about the fire, I am kicking you out of this apartment,” Andy flatly warns.

“Yusuf!” Quynh shouts, turning away from her death-stare match with Booker. “You’re late.”

“That’s because I had a feeling something like this would happen,” Joe gestures to the smoking remains of whatever poison Andy was concocting early, “So I brought dinner.”

He lifts up his bags of takeout for all to see. Booker scoffs. Lykon gives him a big thumbs up. He thinks he hears Nile mutter an “oh thank god” under her breath and Quynh claps her hands happily,

“I should be mad at you for not trusting me enough to cook dinner,” Andy says, throwing the charred remains of a kitchen towel over her shoulder. “But I’m too fucking hungry to care.”

  
  


\--

Dinner goes along with a normal amount of chaos that is associated with his found family. Quynh only throws pita at him twice which is low for her, but Booker almost fist fought him when Joe had the gall to criticize his favorite football player’s performance in the last match. All standard stuff.

Near the end of the night, he is having a lovely conversation with Nile and Lykon about Romantic poetry. Nile is a newer addition to their group after Andy took the younger woman under her wing when she was getting her masters in art history. Even though he only knew her for a couple of years, he loves Nile like he loves his own blood sisters. 

Lykon had joined their little family when Joe found out he homesick for his family in Egypt and Joe just couldn’t have that Sunshine of man stay sad for long. The world needs more of his smile. And of course, everyone in the group had fallen in love with him. Nile and he got on especially well, most likely due to the age similarity and the fact they were both current grad students. They probably saw the rest of them as ancient. Joe certainly felt like it sometimes.

Now, however, they talk pleasantly for a moment on the genius of Keats and how fucking annoying Burke. Lykon argues that Shelley is a narcissistic prick and while he is kind of right, Joe still feels the need to defend him a little. Then, Nile reveals she hasn’t read much Felicia Hemans, which is a _travesty_.

“I’ve got a great collection of hers if you wanna borrow it. You can come by my place and pick it up anytime if you’d like,” Joe offers.

Lykon huffs. “I’ve known you for longer. How come I haven’t gotten invited to your fancy new apartment?”

“Because you’d steal all my books and then make fun of the state of my houseplants,” Joe grins.

“Also because he likes me better,” Nile smirks.

Lykon starts to protest but Joe throws up both of his hands to silence them.

“Kids, kids. Calm down.” They both glare at him, not fond of being called children. “You guys can _both_ come if you’d like.”

“If I have to, I guess I can drag this guy along,” Nile hits Lykon playfully on the shoulder. “Where’s your apartment again?”

"It’s over on 59th and Adams.” 

“Oh shit do you live in the Wesley Apartments?” Nile asks.

“The very same.”

“Isn’t that where Nicky lives?” Lykon looks at Nile.

Wait-- what?

“Yeah. He’s been there a couple of years now. Y’know him, Joe?” Nile asks Joe.

It takes a moment for his brain to load because he is now grappling with the fact that the world is much smaller than he remembers it being.

It can’t be the same Nicky… It can’t be.

“Is he Italian? Broad shoulders? Bright Blue eyes that seem like they know all your secrets?” Joe suggests.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Nile looks at him with a curious glint in his eye. “So you’ve met him?”

“Nope. Never heard of the guy.” Joe looks at his wrist even though he doesn’t wear a watch. “Well, would you look at the time? I gotta go.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock,” Lykon points out.

“I’m an old man. I need my beauty sleep,” Joe proclaims as he stands up and grabs his leather jacket from the back of the chair.

“Wait Joe how do--” Nile starts.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Joe interrupts. “Just text me when you want to come over okay?”

He needs to get out of there. Like now. He has no idea how much these two know. How much Nicky has told them. But he really doesn’t need two twenty-somethings to lecture him on how stupid he and Nicky are being with their weird laundry war.

Nor does he want to let on how much he has at stake-- and he’s not talking about his clothes.

“But--” Lykon tries.

“Bye Everyone!” He shouts to the apartment, effectively cutting Lykon off.

In return, he gets a chorus of byes from his second family as he walks out that door, ignoring Lykon and Nile’s furrowed brow.

\---

Anyone who thinks that teachers get to enjoy the entire summer off is truly underestimating the demands of a teacher. Sure, there wasn’t as much to do, but Nicky does live in New York after all and what he saves away during the school year only goes so far. So he supplements his income with summer tutoring students from other districts. It’s not too bad of a job, considering he can be picky with who takes on, but this year he has taken a lot more students than usual.

This all goes to say that he’s gotten so busy with tutoring (not planning his next attack in the laundry war. No not at all) that he’s fallen behind on planning for the upcoming school year. He decides today is the day planning his syllabus. That is until he gets an unexpected knock on the door.

He turns toward Pesto who is perched on her favorite spot on the windowsill.

“Were you expecting anyone?” he asks her.

No response.

"I thought not,” He concludes and goes to the door.

When he opens it, he’s pleasantly surprised to see that it’s Nile and Lykon.

“Nile! Lykon! You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Nicky says. “What brings you here?”

“We were just visiting a friend in the building,” Nile explains. “Thought we’d surprise you.”

“You are always welcome here, you know that,” Nicky says, opening the door for the two of them.

Nile flops down on the couch in the living room while Lykon takes the armchair right next to it. Nicky fiddles around in the kitchen, but since it's an open concept he has a nice view of his two friends. He tries not to feel jealous when Pesto immediately jumps off her windowsill and on Lykon’s lap. Pesto is obviously fond of Lykon, but Nicky tells himself it’s because the other man doesn’t visit very often, so the novelty hasn’t worn off yet

Meanwhile, Nile leans over to look at all the papers spread out on his coffee table.

"How’s the lesson planning going?” Nile asks.

“It is slowly and painfully killing me,” Nicky admits.

“I feel that,” Nile snorts.

If anyone can relate to the pain of trying to think of an interesting semester plan that will simultaneously teach a bunch of teenagers while not putting them to sleep it would be Nile. In fact, they met when Nile was his student teacher at his old job. And when he lost that job, Nile got him a job at their current school.

“So you said you were visiting a friend,” Nicky changes the subject. If he thinks about school for another second, his head might explode.

“Yeah, maybe you know him,” Lykon suggests. 

Nicky doubts that. He doesn’t really talk to his neighbors all that much with one notable exception.

“He’s actually Lykon’s boss,” Nile admits, pointing a finger at the man in question. “His name’s Joe.”

Well shit. He did know him.

He quickly turns his back on the two, pretending to straighten up some papers on the counter. 

“Uh no,” Nicky lies. “The name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“You sure about that?” Lykon teases, amusement evident in his voice.

“Mmmhmm,” Nicky answers, in an oddly high pitched tone.

“Then look me in the eye and tell me, Nicky,” Nile challenges, using that goddamn “teacher voice” again.

He turns around and looks Nile directly in the eye. “I have no idea who you are talking about.”

“Oh my god you are a shitty ass liar,” Nile throws her hands up in indignation. “What’s the big deal that you gotta lie about it?”

“Yeah did you two fuck or something?” Lykon grins, still petting Pesto.

“No, we did not fuck!” Nicky blushes.

“Then why are you acting so weird?” Nile integrates. “Joe acted the same way when I said your name.”

“You told him you knew me?” Nicky shouts, a little desperately.

Pesto rustles at his raised voice. Nile and Lykon raise their eyebrows at him. Probably surprised at how loud he shouted. Nicky, by nature, is a quiet person. Except for when it comes to one man.

“You _sure_ you didn’t fuck him?” Lykon repeats.

Nicky really wishes Lykon would stop using the word “fuck” in the same context as Joe. It’s making his brain get all muddled and confused.

“I am pretty sure I would remember something like that,” Nicky concedes.

“Then why the hell did you lie about knowing him?” Nile points out.

Nicky sighs. He doesn’t want to tell Nile and Lykon only because he knows that they will just call him an idiot and he already knows how dumb this situation is.

But he doesn’t know how much the other man said to them, and he has to know what he said about Nicky. Purely for Laundry Rival reasons. Not for any other reasons.

Plus he doesn’t like keeping things from them anyway. They are his closest friends. They don’t deserve deceit.

“How much did he tell you?” Nicky starts.

“Nothing.” Nile divulges. “He changed the subject as soon as your name was brought up.”

“Though he did mention you had bright blue eyes and broad shoulders,” Lykon leers. “Which I thought was quite telling.”

Suddenly it feels extremely hot in his apartment.

“That means nothing,” Nicky says because it doesn’t. “Those are just facts.”

“Sure,” Lykon replies, drawing out the word, so Nicky knows that he doesn’t believe a word he says.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” Nile interrogates.

Nicky takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I was complaining about the guy who took my clothes out of the dryer?”

“Yeah?” They confirm in unison. 

Nicky shoots them a Look. They both seem confused but then the lightbulb goes off.

“Joe’s the hot laundry guy?” Lykon figures.

“I never said he was hot!” Nicky shakes a disapproving finger at him.

“Please,” Nile rolls her eyes. “I’m gay as hell and even I can admit that God took his time when making that man.”

Nicky hangs his head in his hands.

“There’s more, isn't there?” Nile guesses.

“I _may_ have taken his laundry out of the washer before it was done in revenge,” Nicky confesses.

“You did _what?”_ Nile exasperates.

“And then to get back at me, he folded my laundry when I wasn’t around,” Nicky continues.

“Joe did that?” Lykon verifies.

Nicky nods.

“And then I told him I would get back at him the next time we did laundry.”

“Oh my god.” Nile gapes “You’re children. Actual children.”

“It sounds so stupid saying it out loud,” Nicky whines.

“That’s because it is stupid,” Nile confirms, as she throws a pillow at him.

Nicky dodges it.

“What did I tell you about throwing pillows, Nile?” Nicky scolds.

“And what did I tell you about being a big ole dummy?” Nile fires back. 

Nicky deflates a little.

“Well, it’s not like I can back down now!” Nicky explains “He’ll think he won!”

“Oh my god, Nicky! Who cares if you “win” or not? Just ask him out on a date!”

If Nicky listens close enough, he’s sure he could hear a record scratch in the distance.

“Why would I ask him out on a date?” Nicky asks incredulously, “He keeps messing with my laundry!”

“You two are obviously doing this as some sort of weird flirting ritual.” Lykon incorrectly observes.

“It is NOT flirting!” Nicky defends “I don’t even like him.”

“I’ve seen you not liking people, Nicky and this is not that,” Nile indicates.

Nicky stares at her for a moment. Not really sure how to respond.

He doesn’t _like_ Joe. He can’t stand the man.

And Joe obviously doesn’t like him. Why would he? Nicky has been nothing but a nuisance to him since they met. All his easy smiles and witty remarks were just his armor in their laundry war.

After a few more moments of silence, Nile and Lykon get the hint that it was gonna take awhile for Nicky’s system to reboot. Even Pesto understands that Nicky is going to need some time to think as she leaps out of Lykon’s lap and heads into Nicky’s bedroom.

They both stand up and shoot conspiring looks at each other (which Nicky really doesn’t like). Nile approaches him first.

“Look, just be kind to him all right?” Nile warns. “And be kind to yourself.”

She gets up and kisses him on the cheek. He pulls her into a hug.

Lykon comes next, pulling him into a bear hug, and pats his back a couple of times. As he pulls back he says, “What Nile said. I don’t need you making Joe all grumpy, since I do work with the man.”

Nicky just nods slightly and leads them to his door.

And Nicky is just left alone to plan. For the next school year. Not for his next attack in his laundry room rivalry. Obviously…

\--

The week preceding Nicky’s next Laundry day was filled with google searches containing phrases like “Biggest Laundry Mistakes” or “Laundry Fails” or “How to Annoy My Neighbor By Messing With His Laundry.” Is it embarrassing? Yes. But that’s between Nicky and all the ads he now gets for laundry detergents.

But Nicky is a teacher, so he knows the value of studying. And this is a very important test that Nicky refuses to fail.

He comes up with a few game plans on what his next move will be depending on where Joe is in his Laundry Routine by the time Nicky shows. And he is sure Joe is gonna be there because while he really only knows the man’s name and the fact that he meticulously sorts his darks from his whites, he just has a feeling that Joe is as committed to this war as he is.

When Nicky arrives Joe is in the middle of putting his clothes in the washer.

Perfect.

This means that Operation Shrinkage can commence.

It was one of the shakier of Nicky’s plan because there is no guarantee that it will work and Nicky won’t see the outcome of it either way. However, Joe expects Nicky to do something, so even if it doesn’t work, it will put Joe further on the edge of his seat. Maybe paranoid. Nicky wants to haunt his dreams, constantly be in the man’s head.

For villainous purposes of course.

Operation Shrinkage comes in two parts. The first: Distraction.

As he walks to his favorite washers (Joe isn’t using them which doesn’t warm Nicky’s heart. It doesn’t), he shoots the man a glare.

“Oh. You’re here,” Nicky deadpans like he wasn’t at all expecting him to be here.

Joe grins and Nicky really wishes the man would stop smiling at him. It’s much harder to be petty towards him when he does.

“Happy to see me?” Joe retorts.

“Happy is not the word I would use.” Nicky fires back.

Joe guffaws as he finishes setting up the washer. He closes the door of the machine and leans back against it. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

“And what word would you use?” Joe continues. “Ecstatic? Excited.”

“Disappointed.”

Joe laughs again. It's a bright, happy sound full of careless joy. Nicky hates that he likes it so much.

He needs to stop the laughter and continue his plan so he looks down at his hamper and dramatically shouts “Belin!”

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot detergent,” Nicky lies. It’s at the bottom of the hamper, covered by his clothes. “Can I borrow some?”

Joe smiles kindly at him before turning around. “Of course.”

As Joe leans over, rummaging through his laundry bag, Nicky quickly reaches over him, turning Joe’s current washer’s setting from cold to hot setting. By the time, Joe stands back up, Nicky is back at his own washer, acting as if nothing happened.

Joe holds out the detergent. “Here you go.”

“Grazi” Nicky thanks.

And continues on like normal.

\--

Joe is surprised by how nice Nicky is being today. Occasional verbal barbs aside, they do their laundry together in comfortable silence.

As their clothes are washing, Nicky pulls out the same book he was reading last time from his cargo shorts (Joe is starting to think he wears them on purpose now), and Joe sketches in his notebook he remembered to bring this time.

He wants to draw Nicky, but something tells him the other man wouldn’t appreciate that type of attention. Still, he glances over every now and then, following the lines and the curves of his body, imagining how beautiful it would look on paper.

He sits in the same chair he did last time. The book seems to be pretty good by the way Nicky seems to focus on it. His lush eyebrows furrow and his blue-green eyes dart across the page. When he looks up from the book and catches him staring, there is no use trying to hide, so he tries to play it off.

He squints at the book as if he is trying to read the title “What are you reading?”

Nicky shows him the cover. Dark blue with a bunch of award stickers on it.

“I cannot remember the title in English,” he admits. “But one of my students recommended it to me. It is very good so far.”

“You teach?”

Nicky nods. “Sophomore world history.”

Joe whistles a low approving tone. “You're braver than I am,” he compliments. “High school students still have fight left in them. By the time my students get to me, they are dead inside.”

Nicky frowns like he doesn’t quite understand.

“I’m a professor at Columbia.” Joe elaborates.

Nicky nods again, an almost imperceptible grin on his face. Joe feels a smile of his own tug at his cheeks. This is the least hostile conversation he has had with the man. It feels like he is making progress.

Of course that means it’s time to bring up the elephant in the laundry room.

“So how do you know Nile?”

If Nicky was surprised, his face certainly doesn’t show it. 

“She and I work at the same school,” Nicky explains, flipping to the next page in his book. “Before that, she was my student teacher for a while.”

Joe hums. “My friend Andy was her mentor while she got her master’s”

“I have heard of this famous Andy. She sounds like quite the woman,” 

“That she is. Her wife is something else too.” 

“Her name is Quynh yes?” Nicks asks.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Joe confirms, a little surprised that Nicky knows that too.

“Nile and Lykon have mentioned her a couple of times,” Nicky admits.

He knows Lykon too? Next, Nicky is gonna say that he is drinking buddies with Booker. 

“And do they ever talk about me?” Joe pries, only half-joking.

“Lykon always complains about his terrible boss who always keeps him late.” Nicky’s small little smile makes an appearance again. “That’s not _you_ is it?”

“Well, I know you’re lying because Lykon loves me,” Joe wags a finger at him. “And I don’t keep him late. He offers to.”

“Whatever you say to help you sleep at night.” The small smile turns coy.

Joe rolls his eyes as he fights off a smile. He can tell by the glitter in Nicky’s blue-grey-green eyes he’s not doing a good job of it.

“It truly is a small world isn’t it?” Joe says after a beat of silence.

“It is a wonder we have not met before,” Nicky cooly observes.

For some reason, that hurts a little. Because Nicky is right. How on earth have they not met before? Why did he have to make a terrible first impression?

Briefly, Joe lets himself imagine a world where he met Nicky at a party. Or maybe Nile or Lykon brought him over for family dinner. Maybe then, they would at least be cordial to each other as opposed to… whatever the hell they are doing with each other right now.

Whatever. They were getting better, weren’t they? Here they are enjoying some light conversation and not-as-awkward-as-they-could-be silences. Maybe they could be friends. Or maybe they could even be--

Behind him, the washers ding, letting him know that his loads are done. He pulls them out to put them in the dryer, and Joe notes that the clothes are warmer than usual. Odd.

Joe spares another glance at Nicky. Did he… No. Joe was looking at him the entire time.

Besides, how much harm can a little warm water do?

\--

A lot apparently.

When he finally gets home from Laundry Day, he folds his clothes and puts them away. Most of his clothes are fine. Nothing unusual about them.

But his t-shirts… for some reason seem smaller than usual.

Then it clicks. Hot water shrinks clothes. But that makes no sense because Joe always puts his clothes on cold wash. Always. So something else might’ve happened.

Or someone.

Somehow the bastard turned his settings when Joe wasn’t looking. 

The problem is that Joe was looking at him. Like the entire time. Probably way more than he should’ve.

Unless…

The detergent.

The man was sneakier than Joe gave him credit for. Here he was, thinking that all was well and good that maybe the Italian man was finally warming up to him. But nope. Nicky was simply tricking him into a false sense of reality.

He tries to ignore the small sting he feels.

Because Nicky was right the last time.

This is far from over.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much Laundry Antics this time around. There will be more next chapter tho. Don't you worry. 
> 
> And If you're wondering where the random bit about the Romantics came from I was procrastinating an essay for my Brit Lit class while I was writing this.
> 
> Also again, I am not a teacher, nor am I a professor so if got anything wrong... oops.
> 
> Thanks for all your nice comments! They make me smile and blush and feel all giddy. I hope to have the next chapter edited and up sometime in the next week!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one!


	4. Chapter 4

It’s Nicky’s laundry day again, and Nicky is nervous.

He’s nervous to see what Joe will do next. At least that’s what he thinks he feels because the only other description Nicky can think of is excited and that makes no sense. Because why on earth would he be excited to see Joe? He doesn’t even like him.

So he’s nervous. He must be.

And when Nicky walks into the laundry room to see two other people who are not Joe, he is not disappointed. Sure, he feels a weird clench in the pit of his stomach, but maybe that’s from the coffee he drank this morning. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

If he glances at the doorway every few minutes as he waits for his load to be done washing, he is not looking for a certain curly-haired individual to come waltzing in. He isn’t.

Nicky is about to put his clothes in the dryer when Joe finally shows up.

He opens his mouth to shoot out some sarcastic remark, but it dies upon his lips when he gets a good look at the other man.

Well, at least he now knows Operation Shrinkage worked. Like really really worked.

Because Joe’s shirt does not fit him one bit. 

What looks like what once was a normal t-shirt is now a borderline obscene piece of fabric. The material clings to his very broad torso that it could almost be a second skin. His arms bulge against sleeves and oh dear GOD his midriff is on full display, revealing smooth tan skin with a smattering soft-looking hair that leads to his…

Nicky runs straight into the dryer with a loud clang! He practically spills his laundry into the machine as he slams his foot into the metal. Thankfully, he manages to catch himself before he completely falls over, but it’s pretty close.

What makes matters even worse is that Joe runs over to Nicky and bends over to pick up some clothes that missed in Nicky’s botched attempt, and now he knows that Joe has back dimples and an absolutely spectacular ass.

“I think you dropped these,” Joe helpfully supplies, holding out the clothes he picked up.

Nicky says something really intelligent like “Uh huh.” and just stares at Joe.

“Did you want these back or…” Joe continues as Nicky had still not taken them out of his hand.

Nicky snaps out of his stupor and grabs his clothes from the other man and shoves it into the dryer. He turns his back on the other man because if he stares at him any longer, his baggy cargo shorts couldn’t even save him from embarrassment. He puts a couple of dryer sheets in, pushes a couple of buttons, and starts his load.

He shoots a glance over at Joe who is putting his own clothes in the washer now, whistling happily. The other patrons seem to be just as distracted as Nicky because he is pretty sure the lady at the far right washer has been pouring detergent in way longer than necessary as she open mouth gapes at the glorious form of Joe in a skin-tight shirt.

He understands the woman wholeheartedly.

After Joe finishes up his business with his own machine, he turns around to face Nicky and leans back against the washer crossing his arms. Nicky thinks that if there was a Hot Men Doing Laundry Calendar, Joe would be a perfect candidate because somehow this position allows for the shirt to ride up even more to showcase the defined muscles of Joe’s stomach and wonderful grooves of his hips. Didn’t Joe say he was a professor or something? Why on God’s Green Earth is an Academic that fucking ripped?

Nicky is too busy imagining taking that obscene shirt off (to throw in the garbage. Not for any other reasons) when he realizes that Joe has been talking to him.

“Scusa?” Nicky blinks.

“I asked if you were doing okay” Joe raises an eyebrow. “You look...flushed.”

Oh, that bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Nicky clears his throat. “I’m fine. Though my day got much worse now that you’re here.”

Joe throws his head back in laughter, flaunting his lovely, tan throat. Nicky tries very hard not to drool.

“You are quite the charmer, Nicky.” Joe smiles, pointing a ringed finger at him.

“So my mother tells me,” Nicky shoots back.

Joe laughs again then drags a hand across his neat beard.

“And did your mother teach you how to shrink clothes?”

“Oh you noticed then.”

“Yes I did,” Joe leans forward a little. His voice gets low and dangerous. “And so did you.”

Nicky’s face heats. He turns around just to double-check his dryer’s settings.

“Yes well it’s hard not to,” Nicky manages to choke out. “I’ve got to say I was not sure it was going to work. Seemed like something that only happened on TV.”

“Well, it worked quite well. And you know what?” 

“What?” Nicky peeked over his shoulder.

“I think I like it.” Joe pulls at the edge of the shirt. “And now that I have plenty of shirts just like this to choose from, I think I’ll be wearing them more often.”

Nicky gulped.

“So I guess I should thank you,” Joe simpers.

“Yes well I am glad,” Nicky turns fully around to face Joe, and yup he is still unbearably hot. Nicky needs to get out there before his brain turns into goo.

He snaps his fingers like he just remembered something.

“You know what I just remembered I forgot to feed my cat,” Nicky lies. “Watch my laundry for me?”

Joe eyes him curiously. “Yeah sure.”

And Nicky practically sprints to his apartment. 

Twenty or so minutes later, he returns to the laundry room to see Joe sketching in that journal of his. If Nicky’s hair is slightly damp from sticking his face under his faucet in order to calm down, no it’s not.

When Joe sees him, his stupidly pretty face lights up and Nicky ignores the butterflies that it causes.

“Is your cat happy now?” Joe asks.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to work out that that isn’t some weird euphemism and remembers the lie he told.

“Much happier.” Nicky elaborates.

“Glad to hear it.” Joe points his pencil at the machines behind Nicky. “Your dryer is done by the way.”

“Oh thank you.”

Nicky tosses his laundry into his basket under the assumption that the worst thing that Joe did in their little war was just reminding Nicky what he can’t have.

It isn’t until he is folding his laundry that Nicky sees a bright blue stain on the front of his favorite shorts.

And that’s when he realizes the beautiful bastard snuck a blue pen in the front pocket.

\--

Joe feels like he’s on the top of the world. Not only did he successfully pull off his latest attack in the ongoing Laundry War, he now knew what Nicky looked like when he was truly flustered.

The man looked good in red that’s for sure. He hopes for Nicky’s sake, that he looks good in blue too.

He knew that the outfit was a risk, but Joe couldn’t resist it. He had a feeling that Nicky at least found him a little bit attractive but this confirmed it. 

The feeling is very mutual. Joe is still annoyed by how good that man can look in clothing made exclusively for Dads over the age of 55.

He ogled the Italian man every time he saw him, so he doesn’t mind being ogled in return. In fact, he rather enjoyed the feeling of those blue-green eyes tracking his form. It’s nice to know the feeling isn’t one-sided.

However, he still isn’t ready to outright ask Nicky out just yet. No, something tells him that it would just spook him.

He finally ended up admitting to Lykon that he did in fact know Nicky (more like he forced him to but that’s beside the point), and he told him that Nicky could be a little quiet and shy at times. Joe found that a little hard to believe given the fact that Nicky had shouted at him multiple times at this point, but he took Lykon’s word for it. He tried to needle him for more information on the other man, but he kept telling him to ask Nicky himself. Which, okay, that was a fair assessment.

But even if Nicky isn’t necessarily shy around Joe, he could sense that Nicky is still fighting this thing they have going on. That’s fine with Joe though. He is happy to keep playing this game. And even if Nicky didn’t want a relationship, Joe would be more than happy to transition their rivalry to friendship.

Sure, Joe had fanaticized kissing those red lips, or what those big, gorgeous hands would feel like in his hair, but Joe really likes Nicky. He likes his wit, the way he doesn’t give a shit about what he wears, how he always seems to have a book in his back pocket. He likes how it easy is to banter with the other man, the way that he makes Joe want to spill all his secrets to him.

Joe is a romantic. He’s fine with pining silently as long he gets to see Nicky smile, or hear that lovely voice of his. However, he would much rather have a relationship (whatever that may look like) outside of the laundry room. He just isn’t quite how to start that transition.

\--

Joe had spent so much brain power (that he should be using to prepare for the upcoming semester) trying to think of a way to approach Nicky outside of the laundry room that he didn’t realize all he had to do was sit on the fire escape.

The cat is just a happy accident really.

It’s nighttime and the sounds of New York provide a nice soundtrack to his thoughts. Joe had never really liked silence; he figures it has something to do with growing up with three sisters and his parents. The al-Kaysani household was never quiet, and so when his own apartment’s silence feels like it’s choking him, Joe sits on his fire escape. He has no idea how safe it actually is sitting out here, but the night air and the view of the moon are almost worth the risk of falling.

Joe sits on the fire escape, switching between sketching and scribbling down rough lines of a poem he is the middle of. He has since given himself permission to draw Nicky because the idea of it had become too tempting to ignore it, and the lines of poetry may be about a set of blue-grey-green eyes that have been haunting his dreams.

He becomes so engrossed in his work, he does even see the cat jump up until he feels her on his lap.  
She’s a beautiful calico. Black and Orange splotches on a white fur. Her face has mostly dark patches, making her yellow-green eyes stand out.

“Oh, hello there,” He greets the cat, holding his hand out for her to sniff. 

He chuckles as she immediately starts rubbing her face on his fingers. He takes the hint and strokes her soft fur. He’s rewarded with a nice loud purr which makes him laugh again.

“Well aren’t you a sweet little lady?” Joe coos.

She just looks up at Joe with an expression that just screams why yes I am. Thank you for noticing.

He spends a few moments petting the cat before their quiet moment is interrupted by very loud, very creative cursing from the window below his.

“Patatina?! This isn’t funny where are you?” A familiar voice calls out.

Joe glances down at the cat in his lap. “Is that you?” 

She blinks at him.

“She’s out here with me!” he answers back.

He looks down diagonally from where the voice was coming from to see a familiar mousy brown head poke out the window.

“Who’s--Oh it’s you,” Nicky recognizes him.

“Is this your cat?” He gestures at the cat, still resting peacefully in his lap. 

“Si si. The little menace is mine,” Nicky sighs. “I accidentally left the window open. Usually, she is good about staying inside. I’m sorry if she disturbed you.”

Joe smiles. “Not at all. I love animals. Besides, she’s sweet.”

Pesto purrs a little louder like she recognizes the praise.

“Careful. She’s already got a big ego, I don’t need you making it any bigger,” Nicky tutts.

Joe laughs, and Nicky smiles that small smile of his. He looks beautiful in the moonlight. His sharp nose is shadowed wonderfully and the pale beams make his blue-green eyes shine. Almost like they are stars themselves. Joe fought the urge to clutch at his heart and burst into tears at such a beautiful image.

“So you’re my downstairs neighbor?” Joe observes.

“I guess so.”

“Our world just keeps getting smaller and smaller huh?”

Nicky just shrugs. How he could be so cavalier about the shrinking size of the circle around them, Joe doesn’t know. Then again, maybe Joe’s the one who can’t stop thinking about how easily he could’ve met Nicky a different way. A better way.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Nicky asks.

“My apartment gets so lonely sometimes,” Joe explains. “So I come out here to remind myself that there are still people. Living their lives just like me. It’s comforting.”

Maybe this is a little too personal, too honest to say to someone who is technically his rival, but something about Nicky just makes him want to spill his heart. The feeling is a little scary if he is being honest. But in a good way. A way that makes him feel alive.

“I understand,” Nicky hums. “I think I would go crazy if I did not have Pesto.”

“Pesto?”

Nicky points at the cat in Joe’s lap. “Pesto.”

“You named your cat Pesto?” Joe raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be an Italian Stereotype?”

“My niece named her and didn’t have the heart to change it,” Nicky admits. “Also, I’m Genovese. Not Italian.”

He says Italian like it’s a dirty word. Like how Joe would say the word “Republican.”

“My apologies,” He raises his hands in surrender, which Pesto does not like very much because it means he is no longer petting her.

“I’m teasing. Mostly.” Nicky smirks. “I know most Americans do not get the difference.”

“Well, technically I am not American either.” Joe points out.

Nicky adorably tilts his head to the side in question. “Where are you from?”

“Lots of places,” Joe shrugs. “I was born in Tunisia but my family moved to the Netherlands when I was twelve years old. Then I went to France for a bachelor's, Italy for my master’s. And then I came here for my doctorate”

Joe looks to the moon for guidance for a moment. “I’ve never really known where to call home.”

Nicky hums thoughtfully from where he leans out his window. “That must be hard. Feeling like you’re drifting constantly, not ever being sure where you belong.”

Joe nods. That is exactly how he felt and Nicky put it so nicely in his succinct way of speaking.

“I guess I have always had the opposite issue,” Nicky admits. “I spent a lot of my life feeling trapped. Feeling like I had to stay. My family has been in Genoa for centuries, and for a long time I felt like I had to stay.”

Nicky adjusts so he can look directly at Joe. He leans against the side of his window, crossing his arms across his chest.

“My full name is Nicoló di Genova,” Nicky smirks. “Which literally means from Genova. For a long time, it felt like a prophecy. That not only was I born there but I will die there too.”

“Nicoló di Genova,” Joe whistles lowly. “That’s quite a name.”

Nicky chuckles, “I am aware. I go by Nicky because Americans can never really get it right.”

“I understand the feeling,” Joe laughs.

“Oh?”

“My full name is Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani,” Joe shrugs. 

Blue-grey-green eyes widen to saucers before settling back down. The barely-there smile is back, making Joe’s stomach twist in delight.

He never wants to stop making this man smile.

“Yeah, you definitely beat me in the name department,” Nicky concedes.

“I usually do,” Joe grins. Then, not wanting their conversation to end, he changes the subject. “What made you finally decide to leave Genoa?”

“My mother,” Nicky smiles fondly. “I tried to hide how unhappy I was. How stuck I felt. But my mama knew.”

“They usually do,” Joe agrees.

Nicky hums. “Yes, they do. And my mother had enough of my moping. She told me that she could feel my heaviness like I was sinking into the sea. She said I needed to leave before I drowned in my sorrows. And then she handed me a one-way ticket to New York.”

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.” Joe comments.

“She is,” Nicky admits. “I know I had to leave but I miss her every day.”

“Me too,” Joe confides. “I mean-- I miss my mom. Not your mom.”

Nicky’s laughter is bright and his barely-there smile turns into something more brilliant. The sight of it feels almost too precious for Joe to see, but he values it all the same.

And Joe flashes a smile back at him. This moment between them feels significant. No laundry antics obligating them to speak to each other. Both of them speak truths that may have taken others years to learn. The night air around them feels heavy yet light at the same time. He never wants it to end.

That’s when Pesto jumps off his lap and back onto Nicky’s windowsill.

“I guess she got tired of me,” Joe says sheepishly. He almost forgot about the cat. So focused on the man below him, haloed by the moonlight.

“I don’t think anyone could get tired of you, Yusuf,” Nicky concludes.

Nicky says it like fact. Not like it is out of flirtation or flattery or even mocking. Simply like it’s an observation. That combined with his use of Joe’s real name makes his brain melt into a pile of happy goo.

“Not even if I kept messing with their laundry?” Joe tries, throwing in a wink for good measure.  
Somehow that is the not right thing to say because as soon as it comes out of his mouth, Nicky’s sweet smile fades away completely.

Nicky clears his throat and picks up Pesto from where she sits. The cat lets out an unhappy meow ad Joe can’t help but agree with the sentiment.

“I should get this one to bed. She gets fussy without her beauty sleep,” Nicky declares.

Joe fights the urge to protest. To say “No please don't leave. Let me hear your beautiful voice for a little bit longer.” But somehow, Joe knows that won’t be welcome. Instead, he just says,

“Okay. Good night Nicoló”

“Good night Yusuf.” is the last thing he hears from the other man as he ducks back into his apartment. Joe endures the sound of Nicky’s shutting window with a heavy heart.

Joe looks at the moon a little longer, trying to remember how Nicky’s eyes sparkled under its light. Then, he goes back into his own apartment. 

The silence feels even more stifling than before.

\--

As soon as he shuts his window, Nicky feels like a complete idiot.

He lets go of Pesto who immediately runs into Nicky’s bedroom, leaving him alone to deal with the consequences of her actions tonight.

“Traitor,” he mutters at her retreating figure.

He moves from the window to sit on his couch and stares at the wall in front of him as he desperately tries to calm his racing mind. Overhead, he hears footsteps and he can’t help but wonder what his upstairs neighbor is doing right now.

Joe has been right above his head this whole time. Yet right now, he feels a million miles away.

Because Nicky desperately wants the man right next to him. Wants him lounging in Nicky’s space. Wants to see those hands sketching away in his notebook like they were doing tonight. Nicky thinks he would rearrange his whole living room if Joe was here, just so he could see the moonlight shine on him like it was early.

Nicky just wants him.

He thinks back to how easy it was to talk to Joe tonight. To tell him things he hasn’t really said out loud before. How simply Joe offered up his own truths.

It was never that easy before. Nicky has always struggled with talking to people. He’s always been a shy, quiet person. The only reason Nile is his friend was that she did all the heavy lifting. She practically dragged him into her life kicking and screaming.

It shouldn’t have been so effortless talking to the other man. Nicky practically hated his guts just the day before. What changed?

But that’s the thing. Nothing changed. Looking back on all their interactions, it had always been simple between the two of them. They bantered naturally. They agreed to keep up this stupid war without a spoken word between them. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How could Nicky be so stupid?

Nile was right all those weeks ago when she said that he had a crush on Joe.

Because he is just now realizing how utterly gone he was on the other man.

He always knew that Joe was attractive. There was no denying how handsome the other man was. Especially not after that whole Shrunken Shirt Debacle. But this was different than just base-level attraction.

No this is much bigger.

Up ahead, there is more shuffling. He wonders what Joe is doing. Is he getting ready for bed? Or is he more of a night owl? Have his footsteps always been this loud? Or was Nicky just more aware of them now that he knew who they belonged to?

He slumps into his couch, pulling a throw pillow into his arms.

Fuck he really likes Joe. Like really really likes him.

How is he supposed to face him the next time he saw Joe in the laundry room? How is he gonna keep this whole charade going now that he knows how he actually feels?

Because he knows that’s the only way he could see the other man now. It’s not like he could ask Joe out or anything like that.

First off, he wouldn’t even know how he would do that. All his past flings--though few there maybe--have been instigated by the other party. He has no idea how to be the person that takes the first step.

Then there is the fact that there is absolutely no way that Joe returns his feelings. For one, someone that gorgeous would ever look at Nicky twice. Nicky doesn’t think that he is entirely bad looking, but he is by no means on Joe’s level of beauty.

But it’s not even that either. It’s the fact that Nicky has been terrorizing the other man for weeks. Sure, Joe retaliates but nowhere near the level that Nicky does. He shrunk his clothes for god sakes! Who does that?!? Not to mention the constant verbal barbs he threw the other man’s way. How grumpy and mean he acted where Joe was all smiles and winks.

He pulls the pillow up to his face and groans.

He ruined his chance before he even knew he wanted one.

And now he just had to live with the knowledge that a beautiful man was just out of his reach.

Nicky listens to the soft noises above and lets them lull him to sleep.

His dreams are filled with dark brown eyes and eye crinkled smiles, and Nicky never wants to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to all you fellas that guessed Joe's retailiation. I hope it lived up to your expectations ;D (and ur welcome for the mental picture of Marwan in a skin-tight crop top)
> 
> We are gearing up for ending lads! I have about two more chapters planned. My academic life is about to get a little crazy but I hope to get them up within the next week or two!!

**Author's Note:**

> lads, i have been working on this fic for over 2 months now and I am so excited about it. it is pretty much all written (kind of) but I still got to edit and make sure everything's all good. That being said I want to try getting updates out on a weekly basis (we'll see if that actually happens lol)
> 
> kudos and comments feed my poor, lonely soul
> 
> questions, comments, compliments can be sent my way @adelineflowerz on tumblr :D
> 
> Thanks for Reading!!


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